bookbashuk Chapter 84 The Order to Freeze
Chapter 84 The Order to Freeze
(Thanks to Maxim Little Noodle Ball for the monthly ticket, and to readers like Wheel of the Gale and Green Caterpillar for the recommendation tickets, thank you so much!!)
9:00am.
Medical room.
The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant, mixed with an unsettling silence.
Team doctor Lisa pointed to the barely visible white shadow on the X-ray, her brow furrowed: "Zack, this is called 'fatigue-induced bone reaction.' Although you only feel a little soreness and heaviness in your ankle now, this bone is like a repeatedly folded wire. If you run a few more games at this high intensity, without even any contact, it could snap at any moment."
Randolph sat on the examination table, swinging his right foot, which seemed to be fine, with a nonchalant expression: "Lisa, you doctors always like to scare people. I feel perfectly fine, just a little tight, a couple more wraps will do. Tomorrow night we're playing the Bulls, that French softie Noah, I'm going to kick his ass."
Beside him, General Manager Donnie was pacing back and forth, his face filled with anxiety.
"Lisa, how big is the risk?" Walsh asked. "You know we're currently fourth in the East, with the Heat and Hawks close behind. If Zach doesn't play, we could drop to fifth, or even sixth. Without home-court advantage in the first round of the playoffs, that's a loss of millions of dollars in ticket sales. And..."
Walsh glanced at Randolph.
"Zach is a Nike-sponsored player, and if he doesn't play, it'll be difficult to explain to the sponsors. They want to see him and Noah face off in the paint."
Randolph seized the opportunity to declare, "See, Donnie? I can fight! Don't listen to women, I can fight!"
Lisa sighed: "If the high-intensity competition continues, there is a 50% chance that the injury will worsen and could even end the season."
50%.
Walsh hesitated.
It's a gamble.
If they win, they maintain their ranking; if they lose, they lose their core inside player.
Just then, Li Xiangbei, who had been standing in the corner, walked over.
He picked up the medical report and gently placed it in front of Walsh.
Donnie.
Li Xiangbei's voice was calm.
"Zach still has two years left on his contract. If we risk a ruptured Achilles tendon or a fracture for a few regular season games, who will take responsibility? Lisa? Or you?"
"Without him in the playoffs, we'll be eliminated in the first round. Who's going to take the blame for the boss's anger? And who's going to fill that $2000 million salary cap space next season?"
Walsh's face twitched.
This is exactly what he is most worried about.
"I know you're worried about the record." Li Xiangbei patted Walsh on the shoulder, his tone softening. "Okay, trust me this once. Let Zach rest, and announce it's 'day-to-day observation.' In the upcoming games, I'll do my best to lead the team to fourth place in the East."
"If we can't hold on..."
Li Xiangbei's eyes sharpened.
"As long as Zach is well-rested, we can win the first round of the playoffs against either the Heat or the Hawks, even without home-court advantage. But if Zach has problems, even if we are ranked first, we won't go far in the playoffs."
This was a textbook example of a benefit analysis and a shift in responsibility.
Li Xiangbei elevated "protecting the players" to the level of "protecting assets," and also took on the responsibility of leading the team.
After struggling with the decision for a long time, Walsh finally let out a sigh of relief.
"Since Lee is so confident... alright then. For the players' long-term health, Zach, you should rest first."
……
PARKING LOT.
Randolph, carrying his bag, walked somewhat dejectedly towards his enormous Cadillac Escalade.
He felt "disrespected." He was still able to run and jump, but he was stuck on the bench, like a piece of trash that no one wanted.
"Boss, you're making a mountain out of a molehill."
Randolph looked at Li Xiangbei, who had caught up with him, and complained.
"I'm not really in that much pain. Do you think my defense has been too slow lately and you want to use that guy Harrington who can only shoot? Or are you just trying to pad your stats?"
Li Xiangbei smiled.
He walked over and actually opened the car door for Randolph—a gesture that was extremely considerate.
"Zack, do you know when F1 cars pit?"
Li Xiangbei tossed Randolph a bottle of sports drink.
"It's not about stopping when the tires fly off the ground. It's about changing to a new set of tires while the tires are still running, in preparation for the final sprint."
Randolph paused for a moment, not quite understanding the metaphor.
Li Xiangbei looked into his eyes, his tone sincere and firm.
"In my eyes, you're not a workhorse used for attrition warfare like the regular season. You're my nuclear weapon."
"What are nuclear weapons for? They're kept on launch pads for maintenance, so they can be used to kill the Heat or the Celtics in the playoffs."
"Just consider this a paid vacation. Go back and spend time with the kids, and give your ankle a spa treatment. But I have one condition..."
Li Xiangbei paused, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes.
"When you come back, I want to see a fully-fledged beast who can knock the opponent's inside players out of bounds, not a fat guy with a limp who can only watch from the sidelines."
These words greatly satisfied Randolph's vanity.
nuclear weapon?
That sounds way cooler than starting.
He grinned widely, and his previous resentment vanished.
"Alright, since you put it that way, I'll take a few days off. Boss, take it easy these next few days, don't finish processing all my data."
Li Xiangbei smiled and closed the car door.
"Don't worry, I'll save it for you."
After Randolph leaves the parking lot, the camera focuses on a janitor eavesdropping in a corner.
……
The next morning.
The Knicks released a brief announcement:
"Zach Randolph is out of the game due to personal matters and ankle soreness, and his return date is uncertain."
This ambiguous announcement immediately caused a huge uproar in the media.
Because there was no clear "injury report," and Randolph's previous comment in the locker room that he shouted "I can play" was spread by some gossipy people, the public opinion began to take a strange turn.
With Nike's behind-the-scenes push, major sports media outlets began to frantically stir up the hype.
The famously outspoken Skip on the show:
According to an unnamed insider, Randolph yelled "I can play!" in the locker room and almost got into an argument with the coaching staff! But Li Xiangbei forced him to go home! This isn't an injury; it's a political purge! Li Xiangbei is putting pressure on management; he wants to prove that even without that All-Star big man, they can win. This is extreme arrogance! If the Knicks lose, Li Xiangbei will be the villain!
The New York Times sports section ran an even more sensational headline: "The Birth of a Ball Hooligan? Li Xiangbei's Dictatorship."
Li Xiangbei sat in the car, listening to the news on the radio, his face expressionless.
He knew who was behind this.
But instead of acting rashly and explaining himself on Twitter, he didn't have his PR department refute the rumors.
Explaining it would reveal Randolph's true injury, which would be giving intelligence to potential playoff opponents.
He chose to remain silent.
Li Xiangbei put on sunglasses, looked at the receding street scene outside the window, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
"You want me to be the bad guy? No problem."
"I don't mind being a bully as long as I can win."
……
That night.
Madison Square Garden.
Without Randolph, the Knicks' interior defense looked empty, like a castle without walls.
In the locker room, D'Antoni looked at the roster with a furrowed brow.
"Li, we're playing the Bulls tonight. Without Zach, Noah and Brad Miller will cause us a lot of trouble in the paint, and we'll need more help defense."
Li Xiangbei is tying his shoelaces.
He pulled hard and tightened the knot.
He stood up and stretched his neck.
"Don't worry, Mike."
Li Xiangbei looked at the coach, his eyes burning with fire.
"Since the media says I'm a ball hog."
"Then I'll show them..."
He pushed open the locker room door and walked towards the noisy stadium.
"What is a true ball hog?"